Raven Stratagem (The Machineries of Empire, #2)(16)

Jienji had gotten bored of the desk and was busy shedding orange hairs on Mikodez’s carpet. Oh well, the carpet was largely self-cleaning, and the servitors would take care of anything the carpet didn’t eat. In point of fact, one had already swooped in and was methodically following the cat’s trail.

“You were right to bring this to me,” Mikodez said to Zehun, “although I’m not sure what we can do beyond monitoring the situation. The part that bothers me the most is the timing. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“When is anything a coincidence?” Zehun said. “I can only assume that Kujen insisted on the new, especially excessive retrieval protocols for General Jedao and his anchor to make us think that he was especially invested in sticking around to look at the test results.”

“He must have taken exception to the fact that Iruja and Faian are almost ready to seize immortality for themselves,” Mikodez said. For all the hexarchs. He planned on opting out—as much as he enjoyed chatting with Kujen about everything from Kel-shopping to budget management, he wasn’t convinced that immortality improved anyone’s psyche—but they didn’t need to know that.

“Even if he hasn’t hacked your contingency files,” Zehun said, “he has to have guessed that you’re the one responsible for offing him on the others’ behalf.”

“Well, yes,” Mikodez said. “It makes our conversations all the more entertaining. Still, he hates leaving his home station, and I don’t like the thought that he’s out of sight. Iruja will expect me to drag him back, if only to make sure that he won’t drop some crazy new superweapon before she can have her shot at immortality.” Never mind that Faian claimed that she could prevent aging, but a well-placed bullet would still kill you dead. Mikodez had long ago stopped expecting Iruja to be rational on the topic.

He frowned at the report. “Schedule a meeting with the relevant analysts in half an hour. That damn thing with the financial irregularities will have to wait until tomorrow morning.”

“I was hoping you’d seen this coming.”

“Since when do I anticipate things that you don’t?”

Zehun gave him that don’t play innocent cadet look he remembered so vividly from academy.

Mikodez grimaced. “I will be disappointed if you haven’t adequately pillaged my worst-case scenario files on the matter. The question is, will Faian break the news to the other hexarchs first, or should I preempt her? I almost wish it were a bomb. Kujen might be a splendid weapons designer, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have the requisite experience launching surprise attacks without getting caught.”

“No, you have him confused with the other, much less dangerous sociopath in the hexarchate’s arsenal,” Zehun said, with the merest trace of sarcasm.

“Please,” Mikodez said. “Which do you think is more dangerous, the mathematician our entire way of life is chained to, or a mere general with a gift for self-destruction?”

“As if ‘dangerous’ is something you can measure on a single axis,” Zehun returned, then leaned down. The cat, with perfect foresight, sprang for a table, missed, and landed ungracefully on the nearby chair. Zehun was forced to hunt Jienji around the office until they cornered her by a shelf. (It was the same shelf every time. Jienji was stupid even for a cat. Mikodez had asked Zehun if this was a comment on the intelligence of Shuos assassins—a matter of particular interest, considering how they had met—and Zehun had smiled unhelpfully.)

“At least Jedao’s out of the way,” Mikodez said. “If Kujen has left the picture too, maybe I have a chance of convincing Kel Command to stop fielding Jedao. And then you’ll be free to name that adorable black kitten after him.”

“Not on your life,” Zehun said. “Superstition is irrational, but a little irrationality is perfectly justified where that man is concerned.”

Mikodez would have plenty of opportunity to reflect on those words in the days to come.





CHAPTER FIVE





KHIRUEV COULD THINK of good reasons why General Jedao might not want to corral her after the latest staff meeting, none of which implied any trust on the general’s part. Eleven days had elapsed since Jedao had claimed the swarm. Jedao had divided that time between meetings and drilling the swarm on unusual formations. For the past four days—lucky unlucky four, she couldn’t help thinking, Kel superstition—Jedao had been inviting staff officers singly to his quarters for meetings that averaged an hour and thirty-seven minutes. Khiruev was reminded of the bedtime stories of ravenous fox-spirits that Mother Allu had liked to tell. And it couldn’t be a coincidence that Jedao had ordered composite wiring shut down. Khiruev’s best guess was that he didn’t want to risk the Kel conspiring against him over a channel he couldn’t monitor, since Jedao’s body was not wired for composite work. She couldn’t blame Jedao for not wanting to risk the necessary operation.

But all the staff came out intact. Major Arvikoi, who looked terribly young even in a society where most people chose to look young, emerged with a disconcertingly pleased expression. Lieutenant Colonel Riozu’s smile was downright predatory. And Colonel Stsan, who had been Khiruev’s chief of staff, went around politely blank. She almost certainly knew that Khiruev had authored the assassination attempt.